


Hell Files and Damnation

by Stariceling



Category: Welcome to Hell - All Media Types
Genre: Blood, Ficlet Collection, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-09-18
Packaged: 2018-02-09 23:43:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2002569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stariceling/pseuds/Stariceling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of shorter fills from the Welcome to Hell kinkmeme.</p><p>Hang On For Me: In which extreme circumstances make Sock intrust his very important hat to Jonathan.<br/>All the King’s Horses: Jojo is not amused by Sock’s interpretation of nursery rhymes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hang On For Me

**Author's Note:**

> prompt 133: something where Johnathan ends up wearing sock's dorky hat

Sock was covered in blood by the time Jonathan reached him. His harsh panting flattened to a whimper under the ringing silence. His forehead braced on the ground, fingers dug into the dirt like weak claws.

His eyes lacked their dangerous green sparks when Jonathan rolled him over. His smile came without the sharp glint of teeth. “I was just thinking what I would do to you if I saw you again.”

Jonathan couldn’t even laugh when Sock’s hat fell off and thick hair sprang free. Sock grabbed for his hat and clutched it to his chest.

“Drop that stupid thing. Let me see!”

“It’s not stupid. It’s important to me,” Sock argued as Jonathan tried to pry the hat from his hands. When Jonathan gave up on struggling with the hat and tried to duck under Sock’s arms instead, he felt Sock yank the hat down on his head. “You hang on to it for me.”

Jonathan hardly noticed. His throat had frozen shut. Sock’s shirt was soaked through with blood so it stuck to his skin.

“We’re getting out of here. Need to get you to a hospital.”

“No hospital! I’m supposed to be dead!”

“Yeah, you’re gonna be dead if you don’t get help.” Jonathan worked his arm under Sock’s shoulders and pulled him up.

“I’m okay. I won’t just die again. I know what I’m talking about this time!”

Even leaning on Jonathan, Sock’s legs crumpled under him. Jonathan swept one arm under his knees and lifted Sock against his chest.

Jonathan was deaf to complaints. He was more interested in escaping the stench of scorched metal and burning hair, the sense of blighted earth scratching at the back of his brain.

Sock passed out before he reached the edge of the cemetery. Jonathan knelt, balancing the limp body in his lap so he could pull up Sock’s bloody shirt. Scar tissue wedged the gaping wound in his chest closed.

“Thank you,” Jonathan whispered. He didn’t even know who he was meant to be thanking. He knew better than to call anyone by name and risk the attention.

Sock was much heavier than he looked, a lead weight by the time Jonathan reached their safe house. It was silent as death, as it should be. The master bedroom was a slaughterhouse Jonathan tried to ignore as he carried Sock upstairs.

Ruined clothes adorned the floor. Blood and grave dust clung to Sock’s body, reluctant to accept he was no longer theirs. Jonathan cleaned Sock as best he could while he hunted for broken skin. There were new scars, shiny and tight, where hellfire had burned through him. Everything was healed.

He maneuvered Sock’s uncooperative body into a soft purple nightgown and lay him out on the bed. Sock looked wrong without his mismatched clothes and stupid hat. He was a concentrated ball of vibrant color and malicious enthusiasm. Jonathan had lost track of how small Sock was. He’d never seen Sock sleep before.

If not for Sock snoring and drooling on the pillow he would have worried he’d left something important behind at Sock’s grave.

When Sock finally stirred Jonathan was still curled protectively over him. Nothing was taking Sock away from him, not after he’d ripped Sock out of Hell with his own hands.

Sock grinned, dangerous even if he wasn’t a demon. He grabbed the earflaps of his hat, the one Jonathan had completely forgotten he was wearing, and pulled it down tighter on Jonathan’s head.

“You look like such a dork.”


	2. All the King’s Horses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jojo is not amused by Sock’s interpretation of nursery rhymes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Hell kinkmeme: Prompt 117: soCK SHOVES. EGGS.
> 
> Guess what I forgot to post for a month! Of the multitude of places one could go with this prompt, somehow this was the one I wanted to write.

Jojo was wrapped in too much fluff to get up, not matter how she tried to get her hands and feet under her. It wasn’t until her teacher came and pulled on her that she was able to sit up. Her nose was dripping blood, and the first thing she saw sitting up was her teacher’s face going pale in horror.

“Zack, go get the nurse please! I’m sure were have tissues or. . .” the words trailed off in a rush to the side of the stage, presumably to get something for Jojo’s bloody nose.

They had all learned in the first week their teacher had a fear of blood, thanks to having Sock in their class. The guilty party was hanging over the scaffold ‘wall’ she had been perched on a minute before.

“You’re not a good ‘Humpty Dumpty’ at all. You didn’t even crack your head open.”

“Napoleon Sowachowski, get down from there and apologize!” their teacher hollered at them, now a safe distance from Jojo’s bloody nose.

Sock landed flat on his butt when he jumped down and stayed there, hands holding his ankles as he gave her one of those overenthusiastic smiles. “Sorry. I just read your poem. ‘Humpty Dumpty had a great fall,’ and everything. So I wanted to help.”

Whatever stupid reason he had, ‘sorry’ was not going to cut it after she’d felt him shove her right off that wall. She didn’t understand why Sock was still in the class play. He’d spent the last few weeks acting as if he didn’t know any nursery rhymes or fairy tales at all, including the one he was assigned to. He ad-libbed his lines and told people his red riding hood was dyed with blood. He’d even hidden a dead rat in his basket and tried to give it to the boy playing the wolf. He was the worst.

“I’m going to kill you,” Jojo said, keeping her voice low and even so it would sound like a real threat.

“Really?” Sock bounced in excitement. “How?”

Jojo stared. That was not the reaction he was supposed to have at all.

“Do you want to chop me up with an axe?” he suggested when she didn’t answer.

“No! What’s wrong with you?”

“Is it a surprise?” He was beaming at her as if she’d agreed to play along with whatever morbid game he always seemed lost in by himself. “Does that mean we can be friends?”

“I’ll never be friends with you.”

Something weird happened to Sock’s smile. All the joy drained out of it, leaving his mouth stretched around nothing. It was painful to look at, the dried-out parody of his manic smile.

Jojo was never going back on her word. Not after he shoved her off a wall for a stupid poem. All the king’s horses and all the king’s men wouldn’t be able to make her his friend.


	3. Sock is a butt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Attempting to annoy Jonathan, Sock takes advantage of the fact that no one can feel him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this predates the kinkmeme but I don't think I ever posted it and I didn't know where else I would even put it. Based on the headcanon of Sock randomly groping people who can't feel him. Also yes that is baffled bathroom guy / Zack.
> 
> Sock doesn't even know how to be sexy he's just ridiculous.

It was all because he had told Sock to stop hanging on him. He couldn’t concentrate with his personal demon draped down his back and whispering in his ear. Sock was weightless, and shouldn’t even be tangible, yet made the hairs on the back of Jonathan’s neck stand up.  
  
He took a seat next to someone else on the bus (brown hair that stuck out in the front, letterman jacket. . . Jonathan knew him in passing but couldn’t remember his name), trying to keep Sock out of his personal space. That was a mistake, since Sock floated right through the seat and settled on his neighbor’s lap.  
  
Jonathan narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Sock wiggled around as if settling in. He rubbed his cheek against the oblivious guy’s shoulder, batting his eyes at Jonathan.  
  
The guy in Sock’s seat glanced over at him, and Jonathan avoided his eyes by staring grimly toward the front of the bus.  
  
He wasn’t going to look, but he could hear Sock humming smugly next to him. When he checked, Sock had somehow situated himself so that it looked like the guy’s hand, hanging carelessly between his knees, was actually resting on Sock’s knee. Sock was pretending to nuzzle at the guy’s chin. As Jonathan glared at him, Sock stroked one hand up the guy’s thigh, or at least pretended to.  
  
It took a minute for Jonathan to realize that Sock’s unaware target was actually staring at him. He looked back blankly, trying to pretend he hadn’t been looking at where Sock’s hand had been heading.  
  
“What?”  
  
“What?” Jonathan shot back, as if he wasn’t the one being weird. Which he _wasn’t_. Sock was the one making sloppy kissing noises all over some guy who couldn’t even hear or feel him.  
  
Jonathan ground his teeth. He could feel his face going hot. Sock just kept snickering at his frustration, and now he was licking at the guy’s _elbow_ of all places. Somehow Jonathan had been saddled with the most ridiculous demon ever.  
  
“Dude. What’s wrong with you?”  
  
“You don’t want to know.”


End file.
